Thursday, June 13, 2002

Here's what you do, frustrated first time bloggers! Do you want to save those changes? Sure you do. You go to the template, make the changes, *save changes*, then go out of the template and into settings. Don't make any changes there (unless you need to change something) but *save changes* anyway. And there you have it: an edited blog. Oh, you're welcome; it was nothing.

Wednesday, June 12, 2002

But I don't need a tutorial on blogs! I just need to know how to save changes to the template. When I type things in (yes, of course in html! yes, of course in the right spots!) and hit SAVE CHANGES the changes do not save. Can a tutorial help with this? I don't think so. Breathe. Again.
Right, so I'll just stick to text. Must let go this obsession with changing the template.

Monday, June 10, 2002

Why won't "This is where you stick random tidbits..." allow itself to become "'Look,' said Andy, 'there's some cows over there. How casual.' -Martin Amis, Dead Babies" Must keep attemping template edits and saves.

Sunday, June 09, 2002

I'm a thief. Yesterday I stole an apostrophe. It is here on the desk in front of me, green construction paper folded sticky bit to sticky bit, a sad hostage. Twenty-four hours ago it was on a wall at the Wish Centre (no, I will not say in what city) where we were to sing. I walked into the gymnasium/concert hall with the accompanist and an alto and there it was with its carefully cut out and placed fellows: The Village Ladie's Choir. Did they know we were from N******? Did they know we come from a place where "strawberrie's" are advertised for sale? (Yous can pick you're own.) Were these big city snobs or was the creator from N****** his/herself? Either way there was no time to lose. The alto and I grabbed a ladder from the back of the hall and clanked to the stage. This was the only time during the whole of the day we were happy the acoustics of a gymnasium/concert hall are so dreadful. The sound did not carry. I zipped up the rungs, grabbed the apostrophe and stuffed it in my cargo pants pocket. That's what cargo pants pockets are for!
Later, decked out in choir goddess blue I watched through heavy mascara for signs of impending alert. No one searched the stage area; no one asked if anyone had seen an apostrophe. No one snipped and applied a replacement.
Now I am home and wondering what to do. I could throw the apostrophe out. I could mail it to the Wish Centre in an envelope unmarked except for the address. There, I have unfolded and stuck it to my monitor casing. I could collect them. An inappropriate apostrophe collection, chopped from signs, pried from lattice, unstuck from walls, quarter moons and tadpoles of wood and paper will line my monitor, my picture frames, the cover over the breaker panel.
What do you collect?